


Hell's Angel

by knaval



Category: SPN, Supernatural
Genre: AU, angel of darkness, crowley's son AU, prince of hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 05:12:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knaval/pseuds/knaval
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchester Boys have always been a thorn in Crowley's side, but he has found a new way to end their pesky interference, involving...his son, Castiel. Granted, he's adopted, but he's his none the less. And he's also Dean's weak spot as much as he is Crowley's.</p><p>based off of this post here: http://www.tumblr.com/reblog/54955302407/19fvVDhB<br/>so it's not my idea but hey i'm running with it anyways</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell's Angel

**Author's Note:**

> please, someone suggest a better title. and something more in the ways of plot i mean i just wanted to write the beginning but i have no idea how to continue this.  
> but yeah.

Crowley’s gaze wanders the walls of the warehouse –decked out in sigils and every symbol in a book the fuckers could paint on the walls. A few of them are in Enochian, no way the boys know what they mean, unless they intentionally meant to write “you breed with the mouth of a goat”. Crowley smirks, chuckling inwardly at the pun. He makes a mental note to remember that one so he can retell it later, thinking of a handful in particular back in the ninth circle who would find it hilarious. His eyes peruse the paint and blood drawn on the walls until he spies the one symbol in particular that’s causing his patience considerable vexation. He bites the inside of his cheek, before beginning his cheeky remarks.

“Again with the devil’s trap. Boys, boys, boys,” Crowley tsks, eyeing the edge of the paint, “Didn’t your mother teach you anything about using the same trick twice?” a smirk crawls into the corner of his mouth as he catches a glance of the Winchester boys’ faces, murderous at the mention of their mother. 

The fall of Heaven had happened rather easily, much more so than Crowley would have planned. With God missing, the angels had done an even worse job of maintaining things than Crowley would have given them credit for. However, since Heaven was falling much ahead of schedule, Mary Winchester had not died the way Azazel had obsessively planned her to. Her union with John Winchester was no longer the most awaited event of the cosmos, as no more foretelling of arranged events told of how. However her family managed to become more pesky in a different way, the last surviving force combating the hell Crowley had unleashed upon earth. Heading a gaggle of mostly incompetent hunters, her family was still proving humanity’s abilities to resist Hell’s efforts. For now. 

His plans to take down the Winchesters’ resistance was already in motion, like pure poetry. Mary Winchester had been recently been assassinated by none other than Abbadon, who was demanding a better repayment for her duties. She was still overly loyal to Lucifer, something he would need to take care of later, he decided, or something else would need to be done about her. But at the moment, something needed to be done about the two Winchester brothers, who, in light of recent events, were horribly intent on ending his regime before it had gone too far. 

“Yeah,” the shorter of the two spat, Dean, the cro mangon one, Crowley reminded himself, “She said it as good as long as the dumb fucks like you kept falling for them.”

“Is that the mouth you kiss your mother with?” Crowley responded quickly, near cutting off Dean’s words. He considered adding in a necrophilia reference, but decided not to get them too riled up. He glanced at the warehouse doors, where through the battered edges he glimpsed the storm brewing in the cauldron belly of the sky. Not too soon, at least. 

He spies Bobby Singer in the background, holding a sawed-off. Dean’s got the knife the traitor Ruby let “fall” into his hands”. He didn’t care which brand of usurpers were trying to tip him out of his throne this time, but that knife was one of the reasons his hands were tied. Well, that and the devil’s trap. Rock and a hard-place situation. He couldn’t send anyone from his usual slew of thugs while they had that knife. Luckily, he had a bit more than demons at his disposal. 

Dean and the Moose continue on rambling on about whatever demands they have while Bobby continues to cast Crowley dark glares, which he returns with the wink and saucy smile, but for the majority of it he’s not listening to a word they say. Blah blah blah king of hell blah blah I’m taller than you blah blah blah I want my soul back, idjit! Blah blah blah I'm surly and I got a beard. Gimme! Blah blah blah. Homespun, cornpone insult. Blah blah blah Witty retort from yours truly.

It’s when something more than thunder shakes the warehouse that Crowley refocuses on the moment, looking up to stare into Dean’s eyes, a grin curling his mouth. 

“May I introduce Castiel to you?”

The windows clattered and the tin roof panes battered against the wooden beams, light bulbs bursting in clouds of smoke, the Winchesters backed up uncertainly, barely hanging onto the words he was saying, until he uttered the next two syllables.

“My son…your future king,” He began, watching as Deans eyes flickered from his to the doors being forced open, the beam holding them closed altogether snapping. Stepping through flickered the shadows and drafts of light and as exploding light bulbs showered him in sparks that glanced off, not leaving a scratch or singe. 

“Angel of Darkness,” Crowley introduced him, watching his son’s gaze lift to take in the whole room, from the Winchesters to him in the devil’s trap. “Prince of Hell.”

Lightning outside flashed once, a second longer and brighter than usual, banishing all shadows for a second to reveal the permanent shadows composing Castiel’s wings. Then the light drew back away, only to linger high on his cheeks, drawing deep cast shadows in the hollow of his jaw. A grin tucked the corner of his cheek back, revealing his teeth in a way that could only be described as devilish.

The look on the Winchester boy’s face was more than enough to tell Crowley his plan was destined to succeed.


End file.
